Prior to this the cats had mostly ignored me, but now their insistence of getting into my business was getting annoying. It made me wonder if this relationship was going to work out. But, I’d promised Millie, so I had to try. Maybe this was their way of telling me how hungry they were.
‘I know you’re hungry but if you’ll just wait—’
Something on the computer screen caught my eye.
It was a review of an establishment in Oyster Cove, but not the Smugglers Bay Inn. It was the Marinara Mariner.
Charles had eaten there last summer and didn’t like the lemon meringue pie. It had been too sour for his taste and he used a lot of negative and colorful words to describe his disappointment. Words that might anger the chef. If I remembered correctly, Tony Murano, head chef and owner of the Mariner, had a bad temper. Did Tony also wear chef’s clogs and hold a grudge?
Meow. Nero rubbed his head against me and I reached out to pet him. This time he let me. I glanced back at the screen. The cats must have inadvertently pressed a key that brought the screen with this review up. Ironically the cat’s annoying behavior on the computer had given me a clue.
‘Yes, you did do good. I think a reward is in order.’
Meowess!
I was hungry too and I’d left the cat food and scraps from the fridge on the counter. I pried open the white styrofoam take-out box and plucked out a shrimp. Nero and Marlowe sat at my feet staring up at the shrimp longingly as I popped it into my mouth. Cat’s liked shrimp, right? As I recalled, one of their favorite canned dinners was Scrumptious Shrimp Surprise.
‘Okay guys, you can have some.’
Their tails swished excitedly as I put a few shrimp in each of their bowls, then set the bowls on the floor.
I leaned against the counter and listened to their content purrs. As they chowed down, I thought, maybe this will work out after all.
‘Maybe this relationship is going to work out after all,’ Marlowe said to Nero as she scarfed down her second shrimp.
‘Agreed. Josie isn’t so bad.’ Nero daintily bit into his shrimp. ‘But let’s not forget we must not show too much enthusiasm for the human.’
Marlowe looked up from her dish, a shrimp tail hanging out of her mouth. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We wouldn’t want to look too appreciative by gobbling down our food so fast.’
Marlowe glanced down at the remaining shrimp in her bowl regrettably. Her whiskers twitched then she looked up at Josie, gave a disdainful meow and stalked out of the room, her tail high in the air. As she exited, he called to Nero over his shoulder. ‘How’s that for not showing interest?’
‘Perfect.’ Nero plucked the shrimp from Marlowe’s bowl and downed it in one gulp before following Marlowe out into the front parlor where the comfortable overstuffed chairs were.
‘I thought she was never going to get the hint with that computer,’ Marlowe said from her spot on the couch where she was curled up and washing behind her ears.
Nero jumped up onto his favorite chair, stretched and then curled into a ball. ‘Thankfully she finally did. I thought she would never figure out the message I was trying to send with the recipes.’
‘Yeah, but you have to admit that was a hard one and she did finally associate the recipes with the partial review that the police found and that led her to looking on the computer.’
‘I suppose, it’s just that she is so slow on the uptake.’ Nero tucked his face into his tail. ‘I think she’ll come around though. She has potential. I guess we still need to work on our communication. At least now she talks out loud to us.’
‘Lucky thing too because she uncovered a few more clues from her conversation with Stella Dumont.’
‘But can we trust the information?’ Nero asked. ‘Stella Dumont isn’t exactly a pillar of society.’
‘True, but I happen to know that Tina was not in her room late at night three nights ago.’
Nero jerked his head up and looked at Marlowe. ‘The night of the murder?’
Marlowe sighed. ‘No, I said three nights ago. Two nights before the murder.’
‘Hmmm. I wonder if that is related… but why wouldn’t she be in her room?’
‘You got me. What about the rumor of her affair with Charles? Maybe they snuck off somewhere to be away from prying eyes?’
‘Could be, the humans’ love habits are strange and disturbing,’ Nero said.
‘You can say that again.’
‘We should pay close attention to her.’ Nero looked out the window to see a Budget rental car pull up with the Weatherbys inside. ‘And let’s not forget the Weatherbys. Clearly they were up to something on that cliff.’
‘Do you really think so? They are birdwatchers. And they’re kind of old to be getting up to murder. If you ask me, they seem like the least likely suspects.’
Nero looked at Marlowe sharply. ‘Never underestimate the older ones. Look at Millie, she can do anything that people half her age can do. And she’s smarter than most of them too.’
‘I suppose you’re right. Sorry.’ Marlowe said. ‘We should be sure to follow all leads anyway. That’s what you taught me.’
Nero turned back to the window, a feeling of self-satisfaction washing over him. The young cat really did pay attention to him. He watched the elderly couple getting out of the car. They didn’t look so elderly from here. In fact, they looked kind of spry. Cameras dangled from their necks as they hopped out of the car and practically sprinted to the front door, their heads bent conspiratorially together. ‘Yes indeed, we will need to watch the Weatherbys closely. Sometimes it is the least likely suspect that is the culprit.’
Ten
The next morning, I slid the brunch egg dish casserole into the oven an hour before breakfast. It was piping hot and smelling fabulous when the guests arrived in the dining room. Breakfast was punctuated by the clink of forks on plates and the rustle of the breeze coming through the window. They talked in hushed tones. At least they were all there. No one had defected in the middle of the night to a different hotel.
I hovered near the mahogany buffet where I’d laid out Millie’s breakfast quiche, orange juice that I’d juiced myself in my Jack Lalanne juicer, English muffins, a fruit bowl and, of course, coffee.
I was impatient for the guests to eat quickly and go. Mom and Millie would be here soon and I was eager to fill them in on the bad review and make a plan to visit the Mariner.
Today, Tina sat with the Weatherbys. They were still mothering her after yesterday’s tragedy. Here they were, taking care of Tina out of the goodness of their hearts not knowing she could be the killer! At the very least she was sneaky, having had an affair with Charles and being seen creeping around his room. Funny though, she didn’t look like a killer with her innocent wide gaze and perfect complexion.
As I studied Tina, she daintily bit a teeny tiny morsel of the muffin. Was that how she stayed so thin? I glanced down at my waistline, which I liked to refer to as voluptuous. I wasn’t fat, but I certainly wasn’t thin. I was probably going to stay this size, because I doubted I could nibble an English muffin like Tina was doing.
She hadn’t touched the rest of her food, either. Maybe if she had she wouldn’t be so pale and wan looking. Was her appearance due to the stress of hiding that she was the killer, or was she just upset her lover had died? I still couldn’t believe Tina would have the know how to sabotage the stairs at the crime scene, as Mike had suggested.
Stella on the other hand…
‘I say, Josie, you’ve really outdone yourself.’ Ava was sitting at the table next to the Weatherbys and Tina. She held up a forkful of the quiche and nodded at me.
‘Thanks.’ I didn’t feel the need to mention that it was actually Millie who had made it.
The Weatherbys stood, patting their mouths with the white linen napkins that matched the tablecloth. ‘Yes, quite delicious today.’
Tina pushed some eggs around the plate with her fork. ‘It was, truly.’
Mik
e appeared in the doorway earning an appreciative glance from Tina – and also from Ava if I was not mistaken. The Weatherbys nodded to him as they exited.
‘Hey Sunshine.’ He helped himself to coffee.
I rolled my eyes and faked a smile. ‘You must be almost done with your work here.’
Mike sipped the coffee and made a face. I wasn’t sure if the face was about the coffee or the mention of his work. ‘Sort of.’
‘What do you mean? You have a set list of tasks that Millie paid you for. I don’t have money for extras.’
‘The extras are on me. Seeing as were such old friends.’ He moved closer. Too close really. Dizzily close. I stepped away, my butt hitting up against the sideboard. Ava watched from her table, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
‘So, ummm… did you want something besides coffee?’ I asked.
‘Uhhh yeah…’ Mike glanced over at Ava then back at me. He lowered his voice. ‘The police tape is gone in the West wing and I wanted to show you something.’
I glanced longingly back at the buffet table. I really wanted to clean this stuff up. But I also wanted to see whatever it was Mike had to show me. It might lead me to the killer’s identity. Maybe a miracle had happened overnight and Flora would come in and clean up the breakfast dishes.
‘Okay.’ I started toward the door and Mike followed, putting his hand on the small of my back. I sped up and his hand fell away. Who did he think he was? That was getting just a little too friendly and I didn’t like the way my stomach tightened and I got all hot-flashy.
As we passed into the foyer, I ducked behind the little podium I used as a check-in desk to get the key to the door that shut the West wing from the rest of the guesthouse.
The Weatherbys came down the stairs juggling various cameras and binoculars. When Ron Weatherby reached the bottom, he nearly dropped one of the cameras. Mike lunged to catch it before it smashed on the wood floor.
‘Hey, nice Nikon,’ Mike admired the camera before handing it back to Ron. ‘Is that one of the new models that has the automatic closeup focus?’
Ron frowned at the camera. ‘Yeah, it’s the newer model.’
‘So do you use it for close-ups of birds in the trees?’ Mike asked. ‘Can you set the autofocus so it works in all lighting and situations?’
Ron glanced at Iona, then down at the camera again. ‘Yeah, that’s just what we use it for. It took me a while to learn how to fiddle with all the dials and everything.’
Mike’s brows knit together as Ron took the camera back.
‘We’re going out to do some birdwatching on the beach,’ Iona smiled and tugged Ron toward the door.
‘Have a great time,’ I said.
Mike watched them leave, an odd look on his face. ‘That was strange.’
‘What you mean?’ I asked.
‘Well his answer about the camera was kind of odd. There aren’t any dials to fiddle with on those.’
‘Really?’ I watched them hop into their car and drive off. ‘Well they are old, maybe he didn’t know what he was talking about or couldn’t remember or used the wrong words?’
Mike shrugged. ‘Maybe. Come on, let me show you what I found in the room.’
We proceeded down the hallway to the West Wing door. I was glad to see the door was still locked. Barbara would have approved, though I was sure she’d find something else wrong to complain about. I opened it and we stepped inside. The room had a creepy stillness to it. My stomach tightened as I glanced over at where Charles’ body had been. You could make out all the footprints in the dust and a dark stain. Blood? I was sure Flora would say that cleaning blood was not in her job description.
‘Look over here.’ Mike pointed to the stairway where several of the treads had been broken. The small section of the railing that was left dangled precariously. It had appeared at first that Charles had slipped, perhaps grabbing at the railing, which gave way, causing him to tumble down the stairs and hit his head.
‘Looks like the stairs collapsed,’ I said.
‘It looks like it. But, if you look closely, you can see that the stairs were sawn from underneath.’ Mike got down on his hands and knees and gestured for me to follow suit. He tilted his head to the side to look at the treads from underneath. I did the same. I had to get very close to him to see what he was pointing at. There was definitely something fishy going on underneath those stairs – and it wasn’t the way Mike had gotten me on my hands and knees so easily either.
‘You can see how they sawed away just enough so that a light amount of weight would cause the stairs to break. But they didn’t cut all the way through, so at first glance the wood is splintered like it rotted and gave way. But when you look closer you can see the even break underneath.’
I looked again. He was right. ‘Do you think the killer did this before and somehow persuaded Charles to come down the stairs?’
‘Maybe.’
I glanced at the pile of railing spindles. ‘But then why hit him with the newel post?’
‘The fall probably didn’t do the trick. Or it’s possible the killer bludgeoned him first and then set the stage to make it look like Charles had fallen by accident.’
‘But wouldn’t someone have heard something?’ I gestured toward the boards. ‘I mean all that sawing makes noise, right?’
Mike rocked back on his heels and looked thoughtful. ‘It does. But it’s possible the person did this some time ago and the sounds were masked by renovations going on in the other part of the house. I mean who can really tell where the hammering and sawing noises are coming from? And I’ve been working pretty steady every day, so the killer would have had plenty of opportunity.’
‘So that means it wasn’t just done in anger when someone saw he had written a bad review.’ If only the police would see it that way, maybe Millie wouldn’t have to promise Seth Chamberlain so many pastries not to arrest me. I glanced over at the window. ‘We found a footprint outside the window. I think the killer might have escaped through there.’
I thought about Tony Murano, my stomach taking a tumble. Charles had written a bad review about Tony’s lemon meringue pie. But if Tony was the killer that meant he’d planned this all out ahead of time. And that he’d come to sabotage the stairs and then lured Charles in here. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to go to his restaurant.? Then again, what could he do to me in broad daylight?
Mike walked over to the window and looked outside then checked the lock. ‘It’s unlocked. You know you should keep all the windows locked here, Sunshine. Oyster Cove might be a nice town but there is a killer running around.’
I refrained from rolling my eyes. There he goes again treating me like a little sister. I remembered it from when we were younger. I hadn’t appreciated it then and I didn’t like it very much now either.
‘Maybe the killer unlocked it to get out. He wouldn’t have been able to lock it back up once outside.’ So there, Mr. Smartypants!
‘Good point.’ Mike walked back to the stairs. ‘Whoever did this went to a lot of trouble to make it look like an accident. They must be angry that we weren’t fooled.’
‘And nervous about being caught.’ I walked back to the staircase and got on my hands and knees to take another look at the sabotage just to make sure that it really had been done on purpose. ‘It looks like you’d have to know exactly where to cut to get the boards to break like this. Who would know that?’
I had been intent on studying the saw marks and hadn’t realized that Mike had crouched down beside me. His voice startled me. ‘Anyone who knew about carpentry, or building.’
I glanced sideways at Mike. ‘Like you?’
Mike looked incredulous. ‘Why in the world would I sabotage the stairs and kill your guest? I didn’t even know the guy.’
‘He might have pissed off someone you’re close to. Someone whose been lurking around here.’ I glanced in the direction of the Smugglers Bay Inn. Not that I really thought Mike would kill someone for Stella, but stra
nger things have happened. And besides, what about the clog print? Maybe they’d done it together and Stella had hopped out the window in her clogs.
Mike caught my drift and his scowl deepened. ‘You think I did this for Stella Dumont? No way. She might have been interesting in high school but believe me, I have no designs on her. I’m older and wiser now and prefer my women… not quite so made-up.’
He reached out to pluck a cobweb out of my hair and I suddenly I felt self-conscious about my lack of mascara or blush. I had put a little lip gloss on this morning though, so hopefully that counted for something
Self-consciousness gave way to guilt. It wasn’t fair to accuse Mike. I had no evidence and he had been nothing but nice since working here. Even if his kindness was suspicious, it was not suspicious enough for me to accuse him of murder.
‘Sorry. I don’t really think you killed him.’
‘I guess we should tell Barbara Littlefield about this.’ Mike leaned forward and looked underneath the stairs again. ‘She’s been running around town saying this place is unsafe.’
‘I know. I have no idea why she has it in for me. I’m trying to restore it to the way it was originally. You’d think she’d be happy.’
‘I don’t think she’s ever happy,’ Mike said. ‘But it might be me she has it in for.’
‘You? Why would she have it in for you? And why would getting the guesthouse closed down hurt you?’
Mike shrugged. ‘I guess she doesn’t like anyone doing any kind of renovations or improvements. Wants things to stay just the way they are, and since I’ve been back in town, I’ve been doing a lot of renovations. Not to brag, but I am getting kind of popular in the home improvement sector.’
‘No doubt. But why focus on the guesthouse? I don’t see what it has to do with you.’
‘She probably thinks that casting a cloud on the work here would dissuade people from hiring me. Plus, she knows I’m attached to this place because of Aunt Millie. But I think she’s just crotchety in general. She doesn’t like that I came back here after a career in the Navy and started taking up carpentry. Thinks it’s suspicious.’
A Twist in the Tail: An absolutely purrfect cozy mystery (The Oyster Cove Guesthouse Book 1) Page 9